


Honour, Courage and Commitment.

by steeleye



Series: Military Faith. [15]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-07 03:36:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12224940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steeleye/pseuds/steeleye
Summary: A Military Faith spin-off story: Honour, Courage and Commitment were all things the Chase family lacked. After ten years in the Marines, Lt Cordelia Chase reconnects with her mother and father.





	1. Chapter 1

Honour, Courage and Commitment.

By Steeleye.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I write these stories for fun not profit.

 **Crossover:** None.

 **Spelling, Punctuation, and Grammar:** Written in glorious English-English which is different to American-English.

 **Timeline:** A Military Faith spin-off story set in May 2010.

 **Words:** Three chapters of 2500+ words.

 **Warnings:** None.

 **Summary:** A Military Faith spin-off story: Honour, Courage and Commitment were all things the Chase family lacked. After ten years in the Marines, Lt Cordelia Chase reconnects with her mother and father.

0=0=0=0

_Wednesday morning at five o'clock  
As the day begins.   
Silently closing her bedroom door,   
Leaving the note that she hoped would say more, _

_She goes downstairs to the kitchen  
Clutching her handkerchief.   
Quietly turning the backdoor key   
Stepping outside, she is free.*_

*: ‘She’s Leaving Home’; Lennon and McCartney. 

**Graduation Day, Sunnydale, 1999.**

So, this was it; school was out forever, school was in fact a smoking hole in the ground so yeah, school was out completely. No more pencils, no more books, no more teacher's dirty looks, as the song went; school really had been blown to pieces. Cordelia tried to think positively, now school had finished, she had her entire life ahead of her; she could do whatever she wanted…as long as it didn’t include having had a collage education.

Was this how it was going to end? Was this what Cordelia Chase had finally come to? The great ‘Queen ‘C’ reduced to sitting on the floor of her empty bedroom, which hadn’t even got a bed in it anymore and all because her stupid father couldn’t fill in a tax return honestly? She was eighteen and her life had been ruined before it had even started…this was just **so freaking unfair!**

Taking a deep breath, Cordy got control of herself, self pity, while comforting, wasn’t going to get her anywhere. It was time to plan, to draw together all her meagre resources, find out what she had to offer and what she could get the world to give her. A steely resolve came over Cordelia Chase at that moment, she was going to succeed, at what, she didn’t know just at the moment. But, she was going to succeed in spite of her stupid parents; one day she would come back to Sunnydale and rub their stupid, dishonest faces in her success. They’d never really loved her, she saw that now, sure she’d wanted for nothing, as long as it could be bought with daddy’s cheque book. Now as she looked back on it she realised how her mother had used her as a ‘fashion accessory’, she’d seen the photos. The cute matching outfits, the identical hair styles. And when Cordy’d turned twelve and wasn’t a cute little girl anymore, suddenly ‘mommy’ didn’t want to be seen with her. Having a twelve year old daughter ‘aged’ her, how much better to pretend that her daughter had never existed?

Wiping the tear from her eye, Cordelia told herself not to whine or cry, that was something Buffy would do… No it wasn’t, Cordy found herself admitting; Buffy didn’t whine or cry, at least not without good cause. During her short time dating Xander Harris, she’d seen just how crappy Buffy’s life could be; she even felt some sympathy for her, although she’d never admit it not even if people stuck red-hot pokers up her… Well, least said where pokers, red-hot or otherwise, would be stuck the better; she was saying nothing to anyone.

No, the time had come for her, Cordelia Chase, to take responsibility for her life and actually _do_ something with it. No-way was she going to work as a shop girl until she finally married some loser like Xander Harris just to get out of the place. No, she was going to make something of herself, so what had she got to work with?

Okay, Cordy picked up the burnt and singed High School graduation diploma that’d been lying on the floor next to her. She’d graduated with a good score on her SAT’s, not genius high like that freak and boyfriend stealer, Willow Rosenberg. But, they were high enough to get her into any one of a dozen good colleges around the country. But that wasn’t going to happen now…thank-you _soooo_ much daddy.

So, what else could she do? She could ‘cheer’, but contrary to popular belief she wasn’t arrogant or misguided enough to think she could ‘make-it’ as a professional cheerleader…but, on the other hand she was pretty. Guys were always hanging around her trying to get in her pants (only a very, _very_ few had succeeded), so a career as a hooker was always a possibility…the thought made her laugh for the first time that night. No-way was she going down that path, whatever some of her so-called friends might think of her.

Right, Cordelia sniffed, wiped her eyes again and sat up straight, on the plus side she had brains, looks and she was physically fit…what could she do with that? For a very long time she sat there in her empty room and waited for an answer to present itself to her. None did. Letting out a long sigh, Cordy’s shoulders slumped. Obviously she needed more options and equally obviously Sunnydale wasn’t going to present them. She needed to get away, she needed to go somewhere bigger, somewhere that would provide her with more options, somewhere like LA.

Reaching into a near by closet, Cordy pulled out her bag and searched inside for her wallet. Finding the wallet she opened it and looked at her limited monitory resources. If she was really careful and was willing to give up frivolous stuff like eating for a while. Cordy calculated she had enough money to buy a bus ticket to LA and be able to rent a small apartment for about a month. A month should be long enough to get herself back on her feet, to start her rise to fame and fortune…and maybe if she returned the prom dress and got the money for it she wouldn’t have to give up eating completely.

0=0=0=0

**LA, about a month later.**

Things had not been going quite as well as Cordelia had hoped. The big problem was that LA was full of pretty young women who (and Cordy hated to admit this but deep down she was a realist) were every bit as good looking as her and the fact that she had a brain actually seemed to be working against her. So far the only job offers she’d had were waitressing or flat on her back positions, neither prospect appealed.

So, with her money almost gone and only eating every other day, Cordelia found herself outside the Marine recruiting office just down the street from her roach infested two room apartment. Having thought it through she appeared to be out of options. Either she could walk through that door or she could put on her waitress uniform or get comfortable with the idea of standing around on street corners waiting to be picked up. She wasn’t worried about how tough the training was going to be, hell she’d been a high school cheerleader for three years and a Junior High cheerleader before that. Running around or climbing over walls held no fears for Cordelia Chase. Perhaps the fact that she could read without moving her lips and add up long columns of figures in her head might prove useful…hell! Cordy laughed, she might end up enjoying herself…and Christ she was going to look _sooooo_ hot in those dress blues!

Thinking that the Marine Corps didn’t know how lucky it was to have Cordelia Chase joining it, Cordy straightened her shoulders and with head held high walked into the recruiting office. As with most things in life it didn’t quite turn out the way that Cordelia expected, but, hasn’t everyone got a constitutional right to be wrong?

0=0=0=0

**BOQ, Fort Drum, May 2010.**

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Lt Cordelia Chase rubbed her right leg and tried not to cry. Her leg hurt so much it had woken her up, but still she refused to take the pain killers the Medical Officer had given her. When she’d been shot down in Yemalia back in ’09 she’d had both her legs broken in the crash. After being taken prisoner by El Raisuli he’d got her a doctor who’d set her legs. The left leg had healed perfectly, but the Doc hadn’t done such a good job on the right. After escaping with the help of Faith Lehane and returning to the States, the Navy doctors had had to re-break and reset her leg.

Cordy had still been in a wheel chair when Faith and herself had been called to the Whitehouse; Cordy remembered how Faith had insisted on pushing her chair. How Faith’d stood there in her Army uniform, ever inch the Chief Warrant Officer, her chest full of medal ribbons and with those Ranger tabs on her shoulder. Cordelia remembered how the President said how proud she was of them both; as far as Cordy could see she was a major screw up. Having been shot down she’d not gone down fighting and had let herself be captured only escaping when Faith came on the scene. Big, tough, snarky, Ranger Faith who’d held her hand and made her feel better about herself, who seemed to think she wasn’t a screw up.

Faith still hadn’t given up on Cordelia even after they’d crashed in Kansas. That had all been her fault too; at least that’s what Cordy told herself. She should have checked the weather reports, she should have put down and taken cover as soon as they’d spotted that twister. Instead she’d tried to fly through it and they’d crashed and she’d nearly killed them both, as it was she’d badly bruised her leg and started it off hurting again. 

But Faith still hadn’t given up on her, in fact she seemed to like her even more than she had before. Somehow the crap that they’d both been through drew the two women closer together. But deep down Cordy knew she was a screw up, what did the President or Faith know? Cordelia Chase…failure. Why a failure? What did Cordelia Chase have? A small room in the BOQ and a leg that hurt so much it woke her up in the morning.

Groaning out loud Cordelia rubbed her thigh harder, it seemed to make the pain recede a little. In a minute or two she’d be able to get up and have a shower; that helped as well. Once she’d walked on it for a few minutes the pain would retreat to a dull, background ache…maybe she should take one of those little pills after all…just one. Because it really-really did hurt so _freaking much_. 

Tears started to trickle down Cordy’s cheeks; she wanted to be able to bury her head in someone’s neck, to feel their arms around her to hear them tell her that everything was going to be okay. But there was no one, not for her, not for ‘bitch Cordy’. Perhaps the universe was punishing her for being so mean in the past. 

Forcing herself to stand up, Cordelia gritted her teeth and refused to let the moan of pain escape her lips. Hobbling towards the shower she discarded her PJ’s in an untidy line behind her as she walked. Stepping into the shower she switched on the water and felt the cold needle like jets hit her skin and drive the sleep from her head. Slowly the water got warmer, and she adjusted the tap so the temperature was just right. As she ran the soap over her body, Cordelia remembered that today she was officially on leave for a week.

It was the first ‘real’ leave she’d managed to take since Yemalia, but even this had been spoilt by a telegram she’d received from her parents. How they’d found her she didn’t know, she’d not written to them or even attempted to contact them since she’d joined the Marines back in ’99. They’d not exactly gone out of their way to find their wayward daughter either. As far as they knew she could be dead, a drugged up hooker in a pauper’s grave somewhere. But, no doubt they’d seen a photo of her in a newspaper, or maybe seen her picture on the TV news…it couldn’t be helped, women winning medals for combat missions, particularly things like Yemalia, was still big news.

Smiling at a memory, Cordy remembered a hot, smoke and dust filled room. The sound of Faith’s AK blasting away at the Yemalies outside. How that big, Arab, bastard and his friends had gotten in. Cordy remembered shooting one of them then smashing out the teeth of another with the butt of her empty rifle before fighting for her life as two more Arabs jumped her…she smiled harder still as she remembered the taste of blood in her mouth as she’d bitten off one of her attacker’s ears! Suddenly finding that her leg didn’t hurt anymore, Cordy quickly finished her shower. Switching off the water she wrapped a towel around her body and one around her hair and went back out into her bedroom to get dressed and ready to face the world again.

0=0=0=0

Half an hour later, Cordy had dried herself off, quickly tidied up her room and made her bed. Standing dressed only in her underwear she looked at the civilian suit she’d bought to go and see her parents in. She’d bought the suit the day after the telegram from her parents had arrived. Apparently Gran’ma Chase had died and Cordy’s presence was required for the funeral. Cordelia could only just remember her father’s mother vaguely. They’d met a few times when Cordy was a child and all she could really remember about the woman was that she always seemed to smell of lavender.

Normally Cordy would have worn her Dress Blues to a funeral, but somehow she just knew that her mom and dad wouldn’t approve. Cordy picked up the hanger with the suit on it; it had a skirt (not too long, not too short) and jacket. It was smart, stylish even, with the right sort of blouse and accessories it’d probably look very nice. The sort of thing you might go to a business function in or perhaps a first date with a work colleague. Cordy gave the suit a last look, sneered and dropped it back on the bed.

To hell with her parents, she was going to wear her Dress Blues, white gloves and all and she was going to wear all her medals. Hadn’t the President given her that medal? Hadn’t the President said how proud she was of her? Hadn’t she, Cordelia Chase said how she was going to rub her parent’s faces in it? Yeah, she had! Slipping into a pair of stylish jeans and after putting on a nice matching blouse, Cordy set about packing up her Dress Blues and finding the wooden box which contained her medals, combat badges and pilot’s wings.

Screw up? Not her; that had been the pain talking. Her earlier doubts and fears forgotten Cordelia set about packing her bags. Yes she’d take a selection of her civilian clothes but her Dress Blues were taking pride of place…take that Mom…take that Dad…she’d show them. 

Just as Cordy was getting a couple of pairs of shoes from the bottom of her locker she found the lock box that contained her personal pistol…a great brute of a .45 automatic, just the thing for taking down monsters. Her hand hesitated over the box for a moment, she was going to her grandmother’s funeral they’d be no need for weapons.

“Damn-it!” Cordy cursed quietly, “Now you’ve jinxed it.”

Pulling the box out of her locker, she placed it next to her bag. Hell, she told herself, better safe than sorry.

0=0=0=0


	2. Chapter 2

2.

**The Lincoln Hotel, New York City.**

“Wow…” Cordelia said softly as she walked into the ornate reception lobby of the hotel; a porter appeared from nowhere and deftly took her duffel bag from her hand without her really noticing.

“If you’d like to follow me to reception, Miss?” the porter gestured to the lavishly decorated reception counter.

“What!?” just for a moment Cordelia was a little overwhelmed by the sheer majesty of the place; the gold-leaf, the works of art on the walls, the carpet that she seemed to sink into as she walked, the smartly uniformed staff.

It was all a little much for her; after ten years in the Marine Corps she’d sort of got used to the Spartan surroundings of barracks and warships.

“Reception, Miss,” prompted the porter, “to sign in?”

“Oh!” Cordy flashed one of her brightest smiles at the porter in an attempt to cover her momentary confusion, “Yeah sure, why not?”

As she was being led over to the reception counter, Cordy’s eyes strayed from her surrounding to the people that occupied them with her.

“Hey!” Cordy restrained herself from pointing like some hick from Hicksville as a famous film star and his latest ‘girlfriend’ walked passed her and out the front door, “Isn’t that…?”

“Indeed it is,” replied the porter as they continued to close with reception.

“Wow…!” Cordy breathed again; her parents must have rebuilt the family fortunes to be able to stay here, or… a nasty thought struck Cordelia, what if her parents weren’t staying here; what if they worked here!? Images of her mother in a maid’s outfit and her father dressed as a waiter flashed through her mind and made her snigger.

“Miss?”

“W-what!?” Cordy shook her head and returned to the present to see she’d arrived at reception; there was a tall, thin man looking at her his hand poised over a computer keyboard; it was fairly obvious he was expecting her to say something…now what could he be waiting for her to say?

“Miss?” the tall-thin guy asked again as he cocked a quizzical eyebrow.

“Erm…” for some reason Cordy felt more nervous now than she had when she’d met the President, “…you want my name?” Cordy guessed.

“That would be helpful, Miss,” Tall-thin guy replied in a tone that implied Cordy was some sort of dweeb.

“Hey asshole!” Cordy snapped, “Don’t take that tone with me, its Lieutenant Cordelia Chase, United States Marine Corps if ya wanna know!”

Cordy coughed to clear her throat after she realised she was channelling Faith.

“Of course, Lieutenant Chase…” Tall-thin hit several keys in rapid succession, he paused as he studied the results of his actions, “…erm, I’ve not got a Lieutenant Chase registered…”

Yeah right, Cordy reminded herself, her parents wouldn’t know about her being what she was; after all they’d shown no interest in her since she'd left Sunnydale; and precious little before that.

“…but I have got a Miss Cordelia Chase,” Tall-thin hesitated for just a second too long as he looked down his nose at her. “Are you with the ‘Chase Family Party’?”

“Of course I am you…” Cordy bit her tongue to stop the stream of parade ground abuse that was about to escape her mouth, quickly she altered what she was going to say, “…y-you’re quite correct.”

“Then if I could ask you to sign in,” Tall-thin indicated a ledger and pen.

Picking up the pen, Cordy signed her name and rank before adding ‘USMC’; then under ‘home address’ she wrote ‘Fort Drum’.

“Take Lieutenant Chase to suite number 517, would you Arthur?” Tall-thin handed Cordy a real old fashioned metal key, it was only later that she discovered it was actually an electronic key in disguise.

0=0=0=0

Five minutes later, Cordelia found herself alone in her suite; it was a large room, opulently furnished and decorated. To be honest Cordy was starting to feel uncomfortable with all the luxury, the Marines had changed her in so many ways. After finding and using the bathroom, Cordelia started to unpack her bags. Just as she was starting to straighten out her Dress Blues there was a soft knock at the door. Wondering who it could be, Cordy left her uniform on the bed, walked over to the door and opened it.

“Cora darling!”

“Oh, hi mother,” Cordelia replied with a frown; ‘Cora’ was her mother’s pet name for her and she hated it!

“Hello sweetheart!” her father called from behind her mother.

There was a long embarrassing silence as all three members of the Chase family stared uncomfortably at each other.

“Aren’t you going to invite us in, sweetie?” her father asked.

Just for a second Cordelia wondered if her parents might be vampires, glancing quickly over her shoulder towards the window she cursed internally when she saw there wasn’t much in the way of direct sunlight coming in to the room. Damn-it, she thought, oh well, they couldn’t just stand around like this forever. Standing back from the door, Cordy extended a silent invitation to enter her room.

Without any hesitation, her mother walked into the room as if she owned the entire hotel, she was followed more hesitantly by her father. After closing the door, Cordy turned to watch her parents. Her father stood over by the window trying not to catch Cordy’s eye, he seemed embarrassed by the entire situation. Her mother, however, was standing by her bed picking up items of clothing and examined them.

“Oh dear, Cordelia,” her mother said with a heavy sigh, “these will just not do…” she turned to look at her husband, “…John I’ll have to take Cora shopping, buy her some decent clothes…”

“Yes dear,” Cordy’s father replied, “I can complete the arrangements by myself, don’t worry…dear.”

“Mind you do,” Cordy’s mother replied quietly as she picked up Cordy’s dress blues; she held them at arms length as if she was frightened of catching something. “I hope you weren’t planning on wearing this to your grandmother’s funeral service,” she sneered.

“Why you…!” Cordelia felt the anger bubble up in her chest, she clenched her fists but managed to stop herself from using them, “I saw the President in that uniform, Mother,” Cordelia replied with all the disdain she could muster, “she pinned the medals on it with her own hand…so I think its good enough for Gran’ma.”

“President Allen?” Cordelia’s mother tutted and shook her head pityingly, “grubby little neo-liberal fish-wife…I’m not surprised. The country’s gone to the dogs since she’s been in power. Now if that nice Speaker Templeton had…”

“Mother!” Cordelia said in her very best ‘command voice’, “I will be wearing my uniform,” Cody paused for just a heart beat, “at every opportunity, if you don’t like it well…” Cordy smiled frostily, “…that’s just too bad.”

“Head strong as ever,” Cordelia’s mother turned to her husband, “perhaps you can talk some sense into her John.”

It was at this point that the thought abruptly struck Cordelia that she’d never heard her mother call her father anything but ‘John’. Never, ‘darling’ or ‘sweetheart’ not even ‘Johnny’ always John. Cordy wondered if her mother called her husband ‘John’ while they were making love, had they in fact ever made love more than once? Had they ever made love? Looking at her mother, Cordelia couldn’t imagine her mother doing anything so ‘common’, so ‘disgusting’. Perhaps her parents had…no, don’t go there, Cordy told herself it was just too disturbing in so many ways.

“So!” Cordelia spoke before her father could open his mouth, it was time for a counter-attack, “The IRS didn’t lock you both in jail and throw away the keys after all.”

“Sweetheart…” her father began, but was cut off by his wife before he could say anymore.

“It was just a little misunderstanding,” her mother informed Cordy, “once we’d had a chance to explain they were very reasonably and gave back most of the money.”

“They did?” Cordy frowned, that didn’t sound right.

When she’d left Sunnydale the IRS had taken just about everything, they’d even found the secret bank accounts and were blocking access to her own account so she’d been basically penniless. Now her mother was telling her that the IRS had been ‘very reasonable’? No, there was something more than met the eye going on here.

“Yes,” her mother continued hardly able to contain the air of smug superiority that she radiated, “yes we were able to rebuild the business…of course we were lucky to leave town before it was destroyed…”

“And while this was going on,” Cordy replied with quiet menace, “you never once thought to find out what had happened to your only child?”

“Cora dear,” her mother smiled insincerely, “you have to understand we had more important things on our minds…”

“More important!?” Cordelia’s hands balled into fists once more.

“Yes dear,” her mother spoke as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do; cast your only child adrift in the big bad world, “we had to rebuild the business there were people that relied on us and…”

“Didn’t you think that **I** might be relying on you?” Cordy snapped, “Anything could have happened to me, I could have died, I could have ended up as a hooker for all you cared, I could have…”

“There John,” her mother turned to look at her husband, “she hasn’t changed, still thinking only of herself…”

“ONLY….!?” Cordelia's mouth moved but no words came out until she found her voice again, “ **NO!** That was the old me…” visions of evacuating wounded Marines from hot LZ’s flashed through her mind, “…the ‘me’ _you_ brought me up to be,” she saw herself helping to drop humanitarian aid to starving people in Africa, “I’m so much better than that now, better than either of you will ever be!” Finally she saw herself fighting for the lives of Faith, herself and those two kids in Yemalia, “NOW GET OUT BEFORE I THROW YOU OUT!”

“Oh well,” her mother sighed as she headed for the door, “If that’s the way you feel,” she turned to signal ‘John’ to follow her; which he did like the well trained lap-dog Cordy unexpectedly realised he’d always been, “don’t forget there’s cocktails at eight so don’t be late and the service is at eleven tomorrow morning.”

At least her father had the decency to look ashamed of himself as he followed his wife out the door.

Unable to contain her anger, Cordy looked for something to smash, striding across the room she picked up an antique vase and was just about to smash it against the wall when she noticed how pretty it was. No, she couldn’t destroy something as beautiful at that, not because of her mother. It was so obvious, Cordy put down the vase and went in search of the mini-bar instead, her parents hadn’t changed and they never would.

Against all evidence or common sense Cordy had always hoped that her parents had tried to find her after she’d disappeared from Sunnydale, they’d just failed. Now it seemed that they never even thought to look, they’d written her off like a bad debt and gone on with their lives. After all what was she to them? Just a daughter to be married off to one of her father’s business associates? Was she supposed to be some old guys ‘trophy wife’ and squeeze out a couple of kids along the way before she drank herself into an early grave? 

Unable to find the mini-bar, Cordelia picked up her jacket, checked she had her wallet and room key, she needed a beer. Suddenly she was feeling closer to Faith than she had done since…well, the last time she’d felt this close to anyone after those last few weeks with Xander, she’d really loved him then, but he’d let her down. Faith had never let her down, they’d fought and almost died together, Faith was a true friend and just at the moment the need to drink a few beers just like, common, raunchy, brave, honourable CWO Faith Lehane was just too much to resist.

0=0=0=0

As it happened, Cordelia didn’t end up in a bar. Instead she’d crossed Fifth Avenue (upon which the Lincoln was built) and walked into Central Park where she found a ‘Continental Café’ that sold European beer. Sitting by herself she looked out over the park to the buildings that surrounded it, sipping her beer she got to wondering about how many demons there were out there.

She knew there were slayers out there, she’d been briefed on slayer dispositions within the continental United States when she’d first been attached to the 613th Rangers. Now she found herself wondering how many girls were out there now; how did they live, what were their lives like, did they need any help?

Cordy had her dream of being the first ever female Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, but deep down she knew that wasn’t going to happen. She’d been in the Marines for ten years now, she was a 1st Lieutenant, once she’d finished with the 613th she’d go back to the Marines and probably be promoted to Captain. Then what? Another fifteen years, maybe she’d retire as a Lt Colonel if she got lucky.

Faith was always talking about how when she retired she wanted to be a Sheriff in a small town somewhere. That made Cordelia smile, sure Faith could do the job, in fact she’d be great at it. But that was Faith, Cordy had no interest in law enforcement, she loved flying helicopters but had no wish to go into business as a civilian chopper pilot, no she needed to do something else. Maybe she could work for the watchers, after all she’d been doing it on and off for years, perhaps they could use an old combat pilot. Or maybe she could be a watcher, or maybe she could shoot herself in the head now and save the demons the bother of killing her later.

“Yeah right!” Cordy glanced at her watch, it was time to go back to the hotel, she’d want something to eat before she changed for the family cocktail party.

As she headed back across the park, she found herself thinking that making plans for the future was pretty pointless, she didn’t know if she had a future. Who knows? Next year some rag-head could get lucky and blow her chopper out of the sky with an RPG. She’d been shot down and survived once, maybe she wouldn’t be so lucky next time. Whatever, she sighed as she crossed the road back towards the hotel, being shot down and killed was way better than what she’d have to endure tonight.

0=0=0=0


	3. Chapter 3

3.

**The Lincoln Hotel, New York City.**

Standing to one side of the function room, Cordelia watched her extended family in much the same way as an anthropologist might study a newly discovered tribe. There were people here she’d not seen since she was a child…there were people here that she was fairly sure she’d never seen before in her life. But they all had at least one thing in common; they were all keeping their distance from the young woman in Marine dress blues…namely her!

Sipping her tonic water, Cordy watched the interactions of the expensively dressed ‘tribes-people’ as they moved about the room. She watched as they greeted each other and re-established their positions in the family ‘pecking order’. An ‘air-kiss’ here, a handshake there, the hand on the upper arm; all gestures that told each person exactly where they stood in the complex order of the Chase family. It would all have been quite interesting to Cordy if she hadn’t been so mind-numbingly bored!

“How’s it going Marine?” the quiet male voice from behind her made Cordy turn to see an older man studying her with a bemused smile on his lips.

Frowning, Cordelia tried to place the man, he looked a lot like an older version of her father; but she was fairly sure she’d never met him before yet somehow he was familiar.

“Tom Chase,” Tom introduced himself, “I’m your father’s older brother so I guess that makes me your uncle.”

“Uncle Tom?” Cordy frowned, she’d never heard of an ‘Uncle Tom’ before.

“For my sins,” the older man sighed as he sipped from a glass of beer, “I suspect your mother never mentioned me,” Tom smiled again, “I’m the black sheep of the family…a little like you.”

“Like me?” Cordy was just a little confused, ‘uncles’, ‘black sheep’, what was going on here?

“Yeah,” Uncle Tom came to stand next to Cordy and turned to watch the Chase family with her, “only I ran away from home and joined the Air Force.”

“Oh my god!” Cordy turned to face her uncle, now she knew where she’d seen him before, “You’re ‘Major Tom’!”

Major Tom Chase, USAF, had been a pilot on one of the shuttle missions. There’d been some kind of malfunction and he’d conducted a space walk and basically saved every body’s life on the shuttle. For a while his picture had been splashed over the front of newspapers and he’d appeared on talk shows and everything. At the time Cordy had been in college and was too busy enjoying herself and being an officer cadet to really notice.

“It’s an honour to meet you, Sir!” Cordy straightened to attention.

“Aw, cut the ‘Sir’ crap, Marine,” Tom laughed quietly, “It’s Uncle Tom or better yet just Tom.”

“Of-of course Sir-I mean, Uncle Tom…Tom,” Cordy replied just a little flustered; after all it wasn’t everyday you met a long lost uncle who just happened to be a national hero.

“So,” Tom nodded to the main body of the Chase family, “is this boring you as much as its boring me?”

“Uh-huh,” Cordy nodded her head.

“Thought so,” Tom put his beer down on a nearby table, “fancy swapping some ‘war-stories’ with an old Air Force pilot, Marine?” Tom glanced around the room noticing the disapproving looks they were both receiving, “I know a good bar nearby if you’re interested.”

“If you don’t mind waiting for me to change?” Cordy replied, “I’ll be right with you.”

“Erm, Cordelia…” Tom began hesitantly but was interrupted by Cordy.

“It’s ‘Cordy’,” Cordy explained, “and never, ever ‘Cora’.”

“Okay,” Tom nodded, “Cordy, would you mind not changing? I mean it’s not every day a retired Air Force Brigadier General gets to walk out with such an attractive and highly decorated Marine like you on his arm.”

“You know,” Cordy smiled, “you’re one smooth operator, General…now where’s this bar?”

0=0=0=0

Waking up the following morning, Cordy rolled over on her bed and groaned loudly. Wincing at the sound of her own voice she groaned again only more quietly this time. Rolling over onto her back she stared at the ceiling and tried to remember what she’d done the night before and just how much she’d drunk.

Leaving the hotel, Uncle Tom and herself had headed up Fifth Avenue and turned off down East one-hundred-and-second Street. Here things got a little hazy and Cordy suspected that if she’d had to find the bar again she’d fail. Whatever, they’d got to the bar, she remembered it was down in the basement of a block of apartments. Cordelia remembered people turning to look at her as she walked in and several young guys had sent drinks over to the table she shared with her uncle.

Anyway, the night went on as the two officers swapped stories and as they got drunker the stories got wilder until eventually it was after midnight and the barman wanted to close up. Helping each other unsteadily to their feet Tom and Cordy made their way to the door where they almost collided with another group of late night drinkers who were just leaving the bar at the same time.

Now, as she thought about it, Cordy realised just how drunk she must have been. As Tom and herself had squeezed out the door between the locals, Cordy was convinced one of them was Willow Rosenberg, she’d even called the young woman ‘Willow’. Okay, she’d dyed her hair brunette, but Cordy would know Willow anywhere. However, when the young woman insisted that her name wasn’t ‘Willow’ that it was in fact, Lilly or Dilly or…whatever. After apologising profusely, Cordelia had grabbed hold of her Uncle’s arm and walked on back to the hotel and had eventually got to bed at about two o’clock.

Looking at her watch where it lay on the night stand, Cordy saw that it was almost eight o’clock, she had three hours before it was time for her grandmother’s funeral. Pushing herself upright, Cordy fought down a wave of nausea that threatened to over take her and send her rushing for the bathroom. Swinging her legs out of bed she sat on the edge of the bed and wondered at the fact that her leg didn’t hurt. Normally when she got up it ached like demons sticking red hot needles into her bones, but today she felt nothing.

“Must be the booze,” she told herself as she levered herself onto her feet.

From her new vantage point, Cordelia could see the rest of her room. Giving a great sigh of relief she saw that she’d not been too drunk last night not to have hung up her uniform neatly on is hanger. Walking over unsteadily to where her uniform hung, Cordy gave it a quick once over. Not so bad, she told herself, ten minutes with an iron would have it back to proper Marine sharpness, looking down she noticed that her shoes would need about five or ten minutes work to get them back up to standard.

So, she had about twenty minutes work to get her uniform up to code and perhaps an hour and a half to get herself looking presentable. Easy, Cordy smiled, if there was one thing the Marine Corps had taught her, it was how not to take hours getting dressed. Walking back to her bed she picked up the phone and ordered some breakfast from room service. Next she headed for the bathroom, once she’d showered and brushed her teeth she’d feel a lot more human and more able to face the day.

0=0=0=0

Getting down to the lobby with fifteen minutes to spare, Cordy caught the look her mother gave her. Not only was Cordy wearing her Dress Blues she was also wearing all her medals and that, so it seemed, really appeared to annoy her mother. Turning at the sound of the elevator doors opening, Cordy saw her Uncle Tom step out of the elevator dressed in his Air Force uniform. Seeing Cordy he smiled and walked over to join her.

“So, I’m retired,” he shrugged as he stood in front of her, “but seeing you look so smart and…” he hesitated slightly embarrassed by what he was going to say, “…and, damn-it, beautiful, I thought I’d annoy your mother too.”

“Semper Fi…” Cordy whispered with a smile.

“Aim high…” Tom agreed quietly.

“Why doesn’t my mother approve of you…” Cordy shrugged, “…and I suppose me?”

“You see in her little world,” Tom began to explain, “people like us, don’t go off and join the armed forces that’s a job for…” Tom struggled for the right words, “…well, for the poor. In her reality we’re put here on Earth to make money and, not to put too fine a point on it, sneer at anyone less well off than we are.”

“Sheesh!” Cordy breathed, “No wonder she was so pissed at daddy when he lost all their money.”

“Yeah,” Tom agreed, “in her world money equals self-worth, without it she was nothing.”

“What a horrible way to live,” Cordy looked at her mother, “there but for the grace of god and the IRS go I.”

“No,” Tom shook his head, “from what I’ve found out about you,” he returned Cordy’s shocked look, “Yep, I’ve been following your career from the day I found out you’d enlisted. No, I don’t think you’d have turned out like your mother, Cordy, there’s something special about you.”

“You think?” Cordy asked.

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Tom reiterated.

“Gee,” Cordy smiled, “I’m ‘special’,” she frowned for a second, “and that’s special in a good way not, ‘special’, like on the little bus…right?”

“One in a million,” Tom confirmed; seeing movement in the mass that was the Chase family he gestured towards the door, “I think its time to go now.”

0=0=0=0

Grandma Chase’s funeral went as well as could be expected. There was a priest, lots of flowers a little hymn singing, but it ended like every other funeral before it. The dearly departed were slowly lowered into the ground, everyone pretended to be sad and then walked away as some Mexican guy on minimum wage shovelled earth into the hole.

The next depressing thing on the schedule was the ‘wake’. In the case of the Chase family the wake consisted of a very fancy sit down meal at the Lincoln, no limp sandwiches for the Chases’, they could afford the best. The only thing that stopped Cordy screaming or walking away from the hypocrites that made up her family was that she could sit next to her uncle and join him in making wise-cracks about the other members of the family.

As most things do, the wake finally drew to an end. Once the bar had stopped handing out free drinks people began to drift away back to their rooms. No doubt they were packing and heading out, unable to stay one more night in the company of the rest of the family. It was strange to Cordelia; in her eyes every member of her family (except her Uncle Tom) was as bad as every other member. But in their own eyes they each believed they were better than everyone else.

Just as Tom and Cordy were about to leave they were approached by a bookish looking man. The man turned out to be a representative of Cordy’s Grandmother’s lawyers. Both Cordelia and her uncle were needed for the reading of the will.

0=0=0=0

Sitting at a table in one of the hotel's conference rooms, Cordelia looked around. There was Uncle Tom, her mother and father and herself. No one else had been invited, or so it seemed. After waiting nearly five minutes Cordy’s mother started to complain about ‘grubby little clerks’ making them wait. Almost as if her words were some sort of summoning spell a grey haired man in a charcoal grey suit entered the room. He clutched a brief case in his hand and after introducing himself as ‘Mr Grey’ he sat down at the head of the table. Opening the briefcase he took out a large sheet of paper that Cordy could only assume was her Grandmother’s will.

Sitting at the head of the table, Mr Grey read out the clauses of the will in a monotone voice. There were the usual bequests to family servants and gifts to the medical staff that’d looked after her in her final months. Grandma Chase also appeared to have a social conscience because she’d set up a couple of college scholarships and had made a sizeable donation to a local hospital.

Just as Cordelia was wondering how rich her grandmother had been, it came to the family part of the will. Uncle Tom was left the sum of five million dollars, which appeared to surprise him. Cordy’s father received a similar amount and finally Mr Grey looked directly at Cordelia.

“…and finally,” Mr Grey intoned, “I leave the balance of my estate to my grand daughter, Cordelia Chase, in the hopes that she will use the money wisely and for the benefit of all.”

“Wow,” Cordy said quietly as her eyes fell on her mother and saw the avarice that lay just below the surface of her smile, “Erm, not wishing to sound like totally greedy or anything but…exactly how much is the balance of Grandma’s fortune?”

“Well,” Mr Grey shrugged, “we’ll need to check, but a conservative estimate would put it in the region of one-hundred-and-thirty-four million dollars.”

“One...hundred...thirty…” Cordy lost her voice for a moment, “…four million…?”

“Dollars,” added Mr Grey, “you’re a very rich young woman Miss Chase.”

“Yeah…” Cordy slumped in her seat trying to come to terms with her suddenly changed life.

Vaguely she heard Mr Grey saying something about contacting her at a later date to discuss what Cordelia wanted to do with her new found wealth. Slowly Cordy became aware of her mother’s voice saying how lucky she was to inherit so much money and how she needed to use it wisely.

“…and the first thing we’ll have to do, Cora dear,” her mother continued, “is to get you out of that terrible Marine Corps uniform and into some proper clothes so we can find you a husband and…”

Her mother’s voice faded into the background as it went on and on about all the fun things she could do once she was out of the military. How, she could afford anything she wanted, new clothes, cars almost anything in the world. Looking away from her mother Cordy’s eyes locked with those of her uncle. He sort of looked a little sad, even slightly disappointed, it was then something struck Cordelia like a bucket of iced water in the face.

If her mother got her way, she’d be out of the Marine Corps in weeks; she’d never get to see Faith or any of her friends again. Her mother would never allow her to mix with people like Faith and as for the guys who’d kept her chopper flying well they were just overalled automatons as far as her mother was concerned. She’d never be able to have a laugh and a beer or two with her buddies and swap war stories late into the night. She’d end up in a loveless marriage with an empty life. Suddenly she knew just how much she loved her friends, yeah there were down sides like getting shot at and the monsters, but her uncle had called her special and she wasn’t about to let him or her friends down.

“NO!” Cordy shouted bringing a sudden silence to the room.

“Cora dear…” her mother began.

“Shut up mother!” Cordy snapped, “Never ever call me ‘Cora’ again or I swear to god I’ll punch you on the nose!”

“Cor…” Cordelia’s mother saw the murderous look in her daughter’s eyes and changed what she was about to say, “Cordelia, dear what’s wrong, don’t you want to…”

“I SAID SHUT-UP!” Cordelia noticed that her father was standing at the back of the room smiling quietly, “Mother,” Cordy speared her mother with a steely stare, “I never ever want to see you again…”

“But I’m your mother…”

“You gave up that right the moment you never looked for me after I left home,” Cordy explained levelly, “so go back to whatever stone you’ve been living under and never bother me again…I have a life to lead.”

Picking up her ‘cover’ from the table she placed it on her head, turning to her uncle she came to attention and saluted.

“General Chase,” she said formally, “would you do me the honour of escorting me to the hotel bar, I think I could do with a stiff drink.”

“The honour’s all mine,” 'Major' Tom returned her salute and offered Cordy his arm.

Together, Marine chopper pilot and Air Force shuttle pilot left the room and headed towards the hotel bar leaving Cordy’s mother speechless and her father smiling proudly after her.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking,” Tom asked as they walked along the corridor together, “what are you going to do with all that money?”

“Well,” Cordy shrugged, “I thought I’d buy myself some new clothes and maybe a new car and then…” she flashed her uncle one of her most dazzling Cordy type smiles, “…and then we’ll see...”

_She,  
(What did we do that was wrong?)   
is having,  
(We didn't know it was wrong)  
Fun,  
(Love is the one thing that money can't buy).  
Something inside that was always denied  
For so many years.   
She's leaving home,  
Bye, bye._

The End.


End file.
